


Not All Who Wander...

by neverminetohold



Series: O cursèd spite, that ever I was born to set it right! [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9165583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: Not his father but a stranger had saved him from the Marilith's attack...





	

He came to lying in a spreading pool of warm blood that soaked into his clothes, ran down the side of his face and filled his mouth with the metallic coppery taste he knew so well.  
  
The flickering orange glow of a fire played over the tangled mess of Anna's brown hair, illuminated the nape of her twisted neck, the singed fabric of her torn uniform. Her arm lay across his back like a heavy weight.  
  
She had died to protect the Prince of Lucis, had sacrificed herself in the line of duty, because he was to be the King of Light, the one the Six had chosen.  
  
Noctis stared at the daemon that slithered closer, past the burning cars. Its scales scraped together as it reared to tower above him. Its face was female, the regal likeness of an ancient queen, only too savage and full of hatred.  
  
Their eyes met, and Noctis wondered why he felt no fear, just curiously out of place pity. It raised its sixfold arms and blades, its lower body coiling tightly together as if in anticipation of delivering the killing blow –  
  
"Now, now, you foul creature," a sudden voice on the breeze admonished. "I will have none of that."  
  
A hail of ghostly blades arrested her downward swipe in a shower of sparks, axes and greatswords grinding together, and then a tall man seemed to step straight out of a fold in the fabric of night.  
  
There was a moment where time seemed frozen, enough so that Noctis gleaned a fleeting impression of expensive garments, scarves with patterns like age-old cobwebs and spider lilies, and hair an unlikely shade caught between auburn and purple.  
  
What followed was not a fight, it was slaughter, as the daemon was knocked back, tossed this way and that by the impact of magic, nicked with a thousand cuts in a whirlwind of weapons that soared and circled around it in flashing lines of red, raising a spray of black ooze that darkened the grass like droplets of rain.  
  
The daemon, reduced to a shapeless thing without limbs, toppled over with a gurgling scream, then dissolved into a sizzling and bubbling puddle that flaked away to nothing within seconds.  
  
It was over so quickly, Noctis' realization that he had witnessed the impossible: a stranger, wielding the same power as his father, did only register as a hollow afterthought, one he accepted as truth without question.  
  
The man dismissed his weapons with a snap of his fingers, then doffed his fedora in a flourished bow, as if acknowledging the demise of a worthy adversary. That done he turned around, meeting Noctis' blank stare with a genial smile.  
  
"Good evening, my sweet prince."  
  
He came closer, and every step he took seemed to tear at Noctis, drawing something closer to the surface of his skin that churned and clawed at him in soaring waves of pain, until he was panting and whimpering.  
  
"Ah, yes," the man said, his voice low and brimming with sympathy. "That does look quite painful indeed."  
  
Prompted by the man's observation Noctis tried to push Anna's cooling corpse away in a bout of sudden, flailing panic. Her stiff arm shifted and he craned his neck, saw blood well from a cut across his back -- and patches of darkness that mottled his pale skin.  
  
Bile rising in his throat, Noctis swallowed thickly and averted his eyes, squeezed them shut. He knew what that meant, what would happen to him. The woman and his father had told him, how daemons were born out of the corruption of men.  
  
"I don't want to turn into one of those things...," Noctis whispered in a small voice, tasting salty tears on his lips.  
  
"Of course!" The man squatted down in front of him with a dark chuckle. "Who in their right mind would, hmm? But fear not, my sweet prince, for I've come to your aid."  
  
Dizzy with fresh waves of pain, Noctis did not think to flinch away as a big hand reached to lift his head. Warm palms and fingers cupped his face, while amber eyes studied him by turns with detached interest and kindness.  
  
Their foreheads bowed together and touching, the man intoned: "Blessed Stars of life and light, deliver us from darkness' blight."  
  
To Noctis it sounded like a well rehearsed line, one said so often that the words had lost all their meaning, a fervent prayer reduced to lip service. But the Six must not have cared, for there was a flash of light, a dancing flame. Its soft glow spread, engulfed them both, became a searing roar with crimson eyes full of loathing...  
  
The world dropped away, leaving only the darkness behind. It festered in his body, invaded the core of each cell, tried to change their shape; dividing, growing, spreading. - Until it stopped. Noctis felt it let go of him, drain away, as if called to make its home elsewhere.  
  
XXX  
  
He woke for the second time that night as strong arms relinquished their hold on him to lower him gently to the ground. Swaying blades of grass tickled his bare legs and arms, and the breeze felt pleasantly cool on his feverish skin.  
  
"Do you hear that?"  
  
Noctis listened. There was a distant sound, the low growl of a tuned motor, a car coming closer. He nodded slowly, fought to keep his eyes open. His lids had grown so heavy.  
  
"There he finally is. King Regis, your dear father. Driving to your rescue in the ever faithful Regalia. His heart stricken with fear that he might arrive too late."  
  
The man smiled down at him, looking none the worse for wear, despite the miraculous cleansing he had performed. Noctis did not care that his every word and theatrical flair was aimed to mock his father.  
  
Determined, he managed to roll onto his side and grab a fistful of the coat that swished past him as the man turned to leave. "Thank you."  
  
Noctis' fingers slipped, refused to obey his command to hold on until he could ask for his savior’s name. His eyes drifted shut. White fur streaked through the welcoming darkness. He could hear Carbuncle's voice, calling for him to dream, to come and play.  
  
"Sleep well, my sweet prince."


End file.
